


Cain leadeth Abel to death

by summoninglupine



Category: Abrahamic Religions, Christian Bible (Old Testament), Jewish Scripture & Legend, Sefer Bereshit | Book of Genesis, מדרש | Midrash, תנ"ך | Tanakh
Genre: Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 16:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20877530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoninglupine/pseuds/summoninglupine
Summary: His flesh was soft, his flesh was tender, pale like milk, his hair like the warmth of autumn, his touch like the stroke of the morning sun. Cain, by contrast, was as coarse as wool, as rough as nettles, and, often in his brother’s presence, as hard as oak.





	Cain leadeth Abel to death

His flesh was soft, his flesh was tender, pale like milk, his hair like the warmth of autumn, his touch like the stroke of the morning sun. Cain, by contrast, was as coarse as wool, as rough as nettles, and, often in his brother’s presence, as hard as oak. 

Their mother, erratic and wild, cloves and spices in her unruly grey hair, had, from her place by the hearth, commanded that he be the keeper of his brother, that he watch against the beasts of the forest as if his younger brother was one of his flock. This, she had told him, was his duty, it was his obligation, and whilst his brother delighted in pulling roots from the soil, naked had it not been for Cain’s clothing of him, he was told to watch over him as if the boy had been a lamb, a calf, a babe to be wrapped in swaddling cloth.

And so, each day, they had gone out into the fields, Cain with his duty, Abel with his joys, squat in the dirt, pulling out roots, placing each one experimentally between his soft lips, and Cain had grown weary of it, had grown bitter. 

A calf to be sure, he thought, a _mooncalf_, too pale, too simple, blistering if he spent too much time beneath the midday sun. In those days, of course, there had been many mysteries and secrets and so Cain did not question the difference between him and his brother—and yet, he yearned, praise be to G-d, but he _yearned_! Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the boy, watched his delight in the world, watched his excitement at the taste of dirt, and Cain, coarse as he was honest, ached in the very heart of his being, and he began to tell himself that, in no small way, was Abel a gift, was he heaven sent; he began to tell himself that his mother’s instructions, that the will of the I Am That I Am, was that Abel be his reward. And it was right, he thought, it was right that he should be rewarded, for did he not watch over the beasts as he had been commanded, did not every day he venture out beneath the burning sun whilst his brother dallied in the shade, plucking roots; did he not suffer for all, his simple brother, his wild-eyed mother, his absent father who cavorted in the desert with his first wife, birthing monstrous children daily?

So, it came to be that whilst the animals were at rest, Cain then went to Abel and taught him the nature of men and of beasts, of the time of the seasons, and the heat of longing. In the woods, in the dirt, on the spread fleece of the slaughtered lamb, Cain took his reward and delighted in the tears spilt into the soil. Yet, after a time, it seemed to Cain that such tears seemed to cry out from the earth.

Observing the nature of the flock, Abel one day turned to their mother and told her that soon, he would be like she had once been, that he would one day be like the beasts with their swollen bellies, that he would one day be with child.

More likely, said Cain, that you are to be like the fatted calf anointed by flame.

To this, their mother had cried out, had chastised Cain for the wickedness of his sentiment and his actions, and Cain’s resentment had grown within him, his heart turning to malice. Thus, it is said that over the fields he then led him, through the woods he led him, and when it was all over, he thought, for the last time, that his brother’s flesh was soft, his flesh was tender, pale like milk, his hair like the warmth of autumn, his touch like the stroke of the morning sun, and he wept then for he would never know such perfection again.


End file.
